


Chimes and Glass Styluses

by Crescent_River



Category: Original Work
Genre: Betrayal, Established Relationship, F/F, Fantasy, Historical Fantasy, Implied self-harm? (kinda), Inspired by Music, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Politics, Rivalry, Royalty, Trust Issues, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:48:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28988751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crescent_River/pseuds/Crescent_River
Summary: A story of politics, love, betrayal, and trust in a royal fantasy setting through the eyes of Sylvey, a player on this giant chessboard called the courtroom.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character





	Chimes and Glass Styluses

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This story is a work in progress, updates will happen after another chapter is finished. Please read over the tags carefully and enjoy the first chapter, feedback is always good.

Chimes are beautiful little things. Of metal or wood, of color or weather they still tinkle in the rare breeze that passes by. They adorn every other baloney. One where a figure sits, looking over a wide market which was buzzing with people in the harsh sun, no wind came to cool down the dots of people's heads. The tan and white buildings seem to almost glow in the light, illuminating the landscape. 

The figure with delicate hands dips a glass pen, twisted in a spiral at the end into a pot of ink, faintly red in color. The figure looks zen as they touch the tip to the paper, still, like waiting for a cue from a conductor. The pen begins to move, never moving off the paper, connecting each word and line with a faint trace of ink as the slanting neat writing unfolds itself onto the paper. Only when the pen runs out of ink in its twisted grooves does the pen lift again. The figure watches with a blank expression as the ink dries, fading from dark red to brown. 

“Lady Sylvey?” The balcony door opens as a servant bows, eye downcast. “The scribes from Delmi are here to continue their training.” Sylvey tilts her head to the side slighting, then nods. 

“Thank you. Please inform the people around to leave that space, this is private business. Please also return my materials to my wing.” The servant bows again ducking out of the balcony and shutting the door. Sylvey placed both hands on the table next to the forgotten stylus. She seems to be bracing herself for something. She stands. 

A tall stature, a backless white dress hugging her straight up and down from, the red sash that bound her waist pinned in place with a lone crystal. Gold hugged her wrists and neck, a gilded circlet resting above her brow like a mock crown. The white contrasted dramatically with the deep mahogany of her skin, scattered lighter lines marking the many troubles and fights through the years.

The halls are made of spotted marble, the tiles hard and shiny. Tapestries and porcelain dotted the walls sparingly, large flat windows made of special tinted glass to keep the building cool in the scorching mornings. Servants scuttled around the edges of the halls, sweeping and polishing, carrying heavy trays from one place to another. Otherwise, it was quiet. 

Sylvey walked down the hall, shoes clasped in one hand as she walks barefoot, back straight and head held high. Every person she passes sets their eyes downcast but glances up like they can't decide whether to look or not. 

Sylvey pushes open a grad door into a dimly lit room where five people stood nervously. As she entered they all bowed, hands shaking at their sides, not one steady.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback always appreciated as well as first impressions of the story, leave kudos if you want to see more!


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